


And we will kiss the scars that led us here

by Leaf_on_the_wind



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leaf_on_the_wind/pseuds/Leaf_on_the_wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years later, Ward is back on the team and, well, things happen with Skye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And we will kiss the scars that led us here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noprincenorape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noprincenorape/gifts).



> A little Skyeward rambling written for @noprincenorape as a Christmas/Día de los Reyes present! (Also, thanks to @Anuna for her initial advice)  
> Context: A few years later, Ward is back on the team.

The first time they spend the night together takes both of them by surprise. They are back at a safe-house, after a mission gone bad – their cover got blown, punches were thrown and bullets were shot – and they are screaming at each other, each accusing the other of being responsible for the failure of the mission.

In between “you shouldn’t have flirted with that girl, she saw right through you” and “you should have been more careful when you opened your bag, they saw your gun” and “you shouldn’t have reacted that way when they confronted us, we could have kept our cover”, Ward lets out a “you could have died!” and both of them suddenly stop talking.

They look at each other, breathing heavily, shaking; hesitant.

Skye is the first to move, coming closer to Ward, grabbing his neck, kissing him with the same fire that was making her scream a minute earlier. Ward is quick to react, kissing her back with a rage she hasn’t seen him express in a long time, grabbing her waist and carrying her while she wraps her legs around him. They fall on the bed more than they lay on it, tearing their clothes off their shaking bodies, gasping for air in between kisses, their hands trying to get under the other’s skin.

Their first time together is a night of raw passion, animated by a hunger none of them knew they were carrying. It is more about possessing than discovering each other, and a strange feeling of vengeance seems to escape from that dance.

It is a show of strength that leaves them bruised, breathless, and somewhat ashamed.

As soon as they are done, Ward leaves the room to go sleep on the couch. They don’t speak about what happened. The next day, they get orders to come back, the mission has been called-off. They drive back in silence, the tension between them thicker than ever.

~~~~

The second time feels like a drunken mistake afterwards; to Skye, at least.

It’s Lance’s birthday so of course, they went out for drinks. It has been six weeks since the ‘incident’ – that’s what she calls it when she is forcing herself not to think about it but can’t seem to stop thinking about it anyway – and they haven’t talked about it once. They haven’t talked about anything, really, each avoiding the other as much as possible.

Because seeing him wakes up something unexpected in her stomach. Because seeing her makes his arms fight his mind, for they want to hold her so tight. Because anytime someone touches her inadvertently, she hopes it’s Ward, but it’s usually just Fitz being his clumsy self. Because anytime someone enters the training-room when he works out, he stops breathing for a second until he sees it’s not her, and goes back to whatever he is doing to exhaust himself and _stop, thinking, about, her_.

Her favourite cocktail is Sex on the Beach, but she would not want to send mixed signals, so she sticks to White Russians even if she gets a thousand of (bad) Black Widow jokes from Lance. It’s his birthday, so she will allow it. After two cocktails, she starts feeling more relaxed, and not so bothered by the fact that Ward is here – and that she has to avoid looking at him because _damn those cheekbones_.

After three, she feels in a good mood, better than she has felt in weeks. She can look at Ward. She can even smile at him and only feel warmth inside her chest instead of guilt.

After five, she is karaokeing with Jemma like the world outside does not exist.

For her sixth drink, it’s Ward’s turn to take the order, and she looks him straight in the eyes when she tells him she wants “sex on the beach” (she doesn’t even realise she forgot the ‘a’).

She wakes up next to him the next morning, and it takes her a few seconds to understand why he is here, before it all comes back to her.

The end of the party, all of them drunk, except for Ward who stuck to his two-drinks policy. The drive home, where for some reason she ended up on the front seat and kept nagging him all the way back. The getting out of the car, which didn’t work out as she had planned, her feet getting caught in the door. The fall, and laughing so hard at her own clumsiness that she hadn’t been able to get up on her own. His strong arms picking her up, carrying her to her bed.

She begged him to stay. She could not stop herself from touching him, grabbing his arm, slipping her hand under his shirt, inside his pants. She kissed him once and almost started to cry when he backed off and tried to put her to bed. She tried to kiss him again as he was tucking her in, and she ran out of bed to stop him from leaving as he tried to exit the room.

Shame turns her red as she remembers trying to kiss him again, and Ward gently stopping her, grabbing her wrists to keep her from unbuttoning his pants; then, finally giving up on the idea of leaving that room and getting into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her as she quickly fell sound asleep.

She turns to him; he is still sleeping. She smiles briefly at the memory of the gentleman he has been, before anxiety fills her up at the idea of having to deal with the whole situation, and she quietly escapes her room before he wakes up.

~~~~

The third time they spend a night together happens out of hurt; and relief.

It’s right after another mission gone wrong, but this time Fitz is the one to suffer the consequences of it. He was never supposed to get out of the van; he should never have been caught in that crossfire. But some tech malfunctioned, and he went out to try and fix it, because it was essential to the success of the mission. He went out and he got shot and it’s bad. They spend hours at the hospital, waiting for news, before Coulson orders them to go back to the base and get some rest.

They are both feeling guilty and lost, so lost. They need to know everything will be alright. Fitz being hurt... It brings back painful memories, of course, but Ward is the one Skye turns to, despite everything that happened; a long, long time ago. She knows that he is as scared for his friend as she is, probably even more so. She knows he needs reassurance, comfort; at least she convinces herself that she is staying with him for him. As some kind of favor.

Truth is, she longs for his body as much as he does for hers. As tired as they are, none of them can go to sleep, so they decide to rest in the common room. They sit next to each other on the couch, even if the room is empty and dozens of other seating arrangements would have been possible. They sit close to one another because it is that kind of situation; the kind where you need to be close to someone you care about, because someone you love is fighting for their life, and you need to grab everything and anything you can to stay on the ground, to not loose yourself in fear, to make sure someone will catch you if you fall; or will, at least, fall with you.

They sit next to one another, in silence, for what seems like hours. Their hands are tangled together, Skye’s shaking, Ward’s keeping hers warm. They don’t move. They wait.

When Skye’s phone rings and it’s Jemma telling them Fitz is ok, he’s fine, he lost blood but he will make a full recovery, they start breathing again. One of Skye’s hands is still in Ward’s, and he doesn’t let go. He brings her hand to his mouth and start kissing it, kissing her wrist, her forearm, overflowing with relief. He pulls her closer to him, gently, and wraps his arms around her, hugging her like he never wants to let her go. She buries her head in his neck, and finally releases the tension that has been shaping her since Fitz got hurt. They don’t move for a while, letting their sore bodies accommodate to one another, before she starts kissing his neck, his cheekbones, his temples, his eyelids; before she finally kisses him, but not passionately this time, nor drunkenly; carefully, delicately, with a tenderness he hasn’t seen her show in a long time. Kissing her back, Ward puts one arm on her waist and another one under her knees, and carries her to his bedroom.

Their second time is gentle, cautious; as if they were made of something thinner than glass. They long for each other but they are both afraid of hurting the other, somehow. Secretly, as much as Fitz being injured affects them, they are relieved the other didn’t get hurt.

But none of them will admit it, none of them can say “I’m glad you’re ok”; yet. So for now, they let their bodies do the talking.  

The next morning, she wakes up to the beeping of Ward’s phone, still in his pants’ pocket. It’s a selfie from Fitz, thumbs up, and a tired smile lighting up his face, with a short message, “I’m good”. She leaves the phone on Ward’s bedside table for him to find when he wakes up, and tiptoes out of the room.

~~~~

He finds her in the kitchen, making breakfast and talking on the phone with Jemma. The room is empty except for the two of them, so he pours himself a cup of coffee and waits patiently for her conversation to end. It doesn’t take long, as she was just getting news on Fitz, and she soon hangs up; but instead of turning to him, she gets back to focusing a bit too exclusively on her eggs.

He sighs; he knew it wouldn’t be easy. She _had_ been avoiding him since they had first slept together. Except for that night she got so drunk. He smiles fondly at that memory, remembering her laugh he hadn’t heard in so long.

He shakes his head, this is not the right time to think about that. He wants them to talk about what is going on. He needs to know what it means. He doesn’t want to do secrets, shame; not anymore. If it’s just a sex thing, then it’s just a sex thing. If she wants more… He is in. But no in-between. No fooling around secretly, caring for one another but not telling anyone. No shame meetings because she isn’t sure of what she wants. He gave up on being bothered by what people think about him a long time ago. He knows what he wants, and what he wants is to be with her. Last night made it pretty clear to him. If she is in, good; if not… He will deal with that idea later, maybe, maybe not. For now, they need to talk.

“Skye.”

She stops scrambling her eggs, tenses up for a second and finally turns to him.

“Yeah.”

The tone of her voice lets him know that she doesn’t want to talk about them, but she knows they have to anyway. She puts the eggs on a plate and, grabbing two forks, comes and sits at his table.

Deliberately avoiding his gaze, she turns a fork towards him and starts eating her breakfast.

“Skye…”

He sounds firm and pleading at the same time, and it makes her look up to him. She stops eating and puts her fork down.

“Ward.”

“We should… talk. About what happened.”

She rehearsed that speech in her head a million times. “There’s nothing to talk about”, “it was a mistake” ( _three times?_ ), “we are not anything”, “we can’t do that”. But when she gets to the part where he asks her “why?” she always gets stuck. There is no reason for them not to be together. The only reason would be… not wanting to. Can she say she doesn’t want to be with him?

She looks at him and gets her answer.

She can’t.

“I’m listening.”

“We’ve slept together twice. And then there was the night of Hunter’s birthday. What does it… Does it mean something to you?”

She sighs, not knowing how to answer, needing time to articulate her thoughts.

“Well...”

She gathers some strength, and jumps in.

“Look, Ward. In my experience, these kinds of situations can have three outcomes. Number one, we stop whatever it is we are doing and decide to go back to being work partners only, and kind of friends if we can, I guess. Number two, we…” She blushes a bit, but keeps going. “We keep having sex, from time to time, whenever we want to.”

She pauses and tries to decipher his face, but he is not letting anything show.

“Number three, we decide this is the beginning of an actual relationship and we give it a fair try.”

Something changes on his face. His eyes widened, maybe? She couldn’t really say.

“A fair try?”

She looks at him, not understanding the question, before he tries to make it clearer for her.

“I mean, let’s say, hypothetically, that we decide to go for number three. Do we… date? Publicly? Or do we keep it in the dark?”

Taken aback by his reaction, she replies with a bit more anger than she would have wanted.

“You really think that’s the most important question we need to answer right now?”

“I do”, he replies, and in his voice there’s an anxiety that immediately calms her down.

“Don’t you think we have to choose an option first?” she asks, more gently, but still on her guard.

“I already have, Skye. I know what I want.”

Silence settles between them. He knows what he wants. He is sure about that.

She knows, too. Deep inside.

But it is still scary to say it out loud, for both of them.

Maybe he wants it a little bit more, though; for now. Maybe he is a little bit stronger. Or maybe he is just not as good as she is at handling silences, after all.

“Ok”, he starts, and his voice echoes in the empty kitchen. “Ok, I’ll go first.”

He takes a deep breath and takes her hand between his. He can’t really do this alone, and her touch is what gives him strength.

“I want to be with you. Simple as that.” He doesn’t look at her, yet, keeping his eyes focused on their hands. “I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up and see your sleepy face. I want to share your messy room and get mad at you for always leaving things around. I want to sleep with you again because I think there are still a million things we can experience together.” When he finally looks up, it’s to add the words that finish her. “I’ve never been in a relationship, Skye, but I want to be in a relationship with you.”

She looks at him in some kind of awe. She has never heard him talk so much on such a personal level. She slides her hands out of his and hides her blushing face in them, overwhelmed by what he just said.

“Please, say something,” he adds, and the tone of his voice makes her realize how hard it must have been for Grant Ward, ‘the specialist’, the reveal himself like that.

She takes a deep breath and opens her cage, letting him in. It’s her turn to be strong, her turn to catch him.

“I’m in.”

He is so surprised by her answer that he suddenly realizes he was expecting her to say no. He hadn’t anticipated that turn of events, and even if he can feel a warmth inside his body that he has never felt before, he doesn’t know how to react.

“You are?”

She is not seeing Ward right now; she is sitting in front of Grant, the boy who never got what he hoped for, the boy who was never shown love; the boy who, at some point, accepted that love was denied to him. He is a man now, and he doesn’t quite believe her. Doesn’t quite believe she would want to share his life.

She puts a hand on his and tangles their fingers. It’s time to lighten the mood.

“I shared my eggs with you, didn’t I? You ever saw me share food with anyone?”

He smiles, and she can see relief lighting up his face.

They spend the rest of the day debating how they are going to tell the others; it’s an easy topic, easier at least than the dozens of questions that still need answers.

Everyone else is either at the hospital (Jemma, Mack), at the office (Coulson, May) or away on a mission, bickering probably (Bobbi, Lance). They are cuddling on the couch, typing and erasing text messages, unable to find the right words. Finally, Skye decides to put her lips on Ward’s cheek and she takes a quick selfie. She adds a little message, “It’s Ward; he doesn’t want to be on the picture”, and sends it before he can react.

“Here”, she says. “It’s official. Happy?”

He honestly couldn’t be happier.

~~~~

After that, nothing majors happens. The world doesn’t stop turning because they are (in the wise words of Fitz, ‘finally’) in a relationship. It’s just their lives that change; for the better.

About six weeks later, they are lying in bed on a Sunday morning, the first day they both got off since they became a couple. Ok, so maybe Coulson isn’t quite happy about them being in a relationship. See if they care.

They are still both naked from having slept together the night before and fallen asleep right after, Skye’s body resting on Ward’s. She buries her head in his collarbone, still feeling sleepy, and he kisses her forehead and mumbles a ‘good morning’ in her hair. She answers with a kiss on his chest, not awake enough to talk yet.

With her left hand, she slowly draws arabesques on his stomach, redefining those abs she still can’t believe are for real. With the tip of her fingers, she touches the scars she left there, a long time ago.

“I hate these”, she tells him, stopping her fingers on the scars. “I wish I could make them disappear.”

“Don’t”, he replies, putting his hand on hers and tangling their fingers. “I like them.”

She turns her head to him.

“You do?” she asks, puzzled. How can he like this... reminder that she shot him?

“They help me remember... Who I was, and who I want to be. They are proof of who we were, Skye...”

He takes her hand to his mouth to lay a gentle kiss on it.

“... and of who we became. They are part of me, but they are also part of your history. Our history.”

He cups her face in the palm of his hand and kisses her softly.

“I don’t want them to go away, ever. Scars are here to help us remember what happened to us. What we did. Things we should never forget, even if they are painful. When I look at these scars... I don’t see you shooting me, I see us, today, and it’s like they’re telling me I did good. They remind me of how much we have changed, how we got better, how we got... there.”

This time, she kisses him, if only to stop the tears from coming into her eyes.

It doesn’t work though, for tears are slowly running down her face when they part, and he wipes them away with his thumb.

“I don’t ever want to get rid of these scars.”

She smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes him think it (the scars, the pain, the fighting) was all worth it.

She kisses him again, and then kisses his neck, his chest, his stomach; until she gets to the scars. She kisses his scars tenderly, longingly.

“I love you”, she whispers against them.

She rests her head on his stomach, and he runs a hand through her hair, along the nape of her neck, along her spine, to rest it on the small of her back.

“I love you too, Skye.”

They soon fall asleep again; they have Sunday off, after all.

~~~~

There are ups and downs along the way, but there is no ending to that story.

Skye has made a habit of kissing Ward’s scars before they go to sleep, and she does so almost every night.

Until he gets new scars, and she kisses those.


End file.
